


She Deciphers Him Like Language

by galfridian



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/pseuds/galfridian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Uhura learns the subtlety of Spock, she discovers the openness of Scotty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Deciphers Him Like Language

**Author's Note:**

> _She Deciphers Him Like Language_ is my maiden voyage into the Star Trek fandom. I am slowly, but certainly, learning the fandom as I go. Thanks to [](http://damalur.livejournal.com/profile)[**damalur**](http://damalur.livejournal.com/) for both her encouragement and her beta work. 

**Title:** She Deciphers Him Like Language  
 **Author:** [](http://galfridian.livejournal.com/profile)[**galfridian**](http://galfridian.livejournal.com/)  
 **Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Nyota Uhura; Scotty/Uhura, Spock/Uhura  
 **Summary:** As Uhura learns the subtlety of Spock, she discovers the openness of Scotty.  
 **Notes:** _She Deciphers Him Like Language_ is my maiden voyage into the Star Trek fandom. I am slowly, but certainly, learning the fandom as I go. Thanks to [](http://damalur.livejournal.com/profile)[**damalur**](http://damalur.livejournal.com/) for both her encouragement and her beta work. 

—

Jim Kirk evidently decides to make a habit of involving Spock in two-man missions that leave the Enterprise and her crew waiting anxiously. Lieutenant Uhura continues to resent it; Montgomery Scott still finds it exciting.

_Uhura's attraction to Spock grows for so long and to such heights that her fantasies of him turn to acts of heedless, fervent passion unlike any in which he would actually engage._

_But when it happens—when she finally sees what she's been longing for in his eyes and acts on it—it's languid and calm. It's late; they're so engaged in their work that the hours have flown by, but now they're sluggish and everything seems to move in slow motion._

_She kisses him. He inclines his head to meet her, his hands resting delicately on her wrist. The world explodes into motion again._

 

 

While the Enterprise waits to either receive its captain and first officer or to engage the enemy, Uhura monitors Spock's frequency.

She paces. It makes Scotty nervous. She pretends not to notice. It grows increasingly difficult. He can be dramatic.

_“Nyota.” He says her name with reverence, like it's a poem. (My love is like a red, red rose.)_

_“Spock.” She imitates his tone, a subtle plea for him to understand. (So deep in love am I.)_

_He kisses her. Runs his fingertips along her cheek, she feels him pulse through her. (And I will love thee still.)_

_(Till the rocks melt with the sun.) She knows language like she knows herself. She and Spock have their own, and they write poetry._

“You know,” Scotty says one morning while Kirk and Spock are off-ship. “Making the poor bloke in charge of bringing your first officer back jittery may not be the best approach.”

She spins on her heel to glare at him, but his grin is infectious. She takes a seat next to him, allows him to distract her from wondering if this time― _please not_ ―will be the last.

*

  


Scotty grew up in Linlithgow. His genius was discovered when he was four; his father poured science and mathematics into his head before Scotty tied his own laces. For a while, she thinks he's like Spock, with variables and statistics controlling him. She learns he isn't.

_You can't quantify emotion, not really. It isn't measurable. Vulcans seek to control it, but she relishes it._

_Uhura reads poetry in all the languages she knows. Before Vulcan began to purge emotion, there was poetry; it was exquisite. She finds a volume in his quarters, a gift from his mother, and asks him to read them to her._

_Spock gets poetry, sees the way the way the words are carefully arranged, and finds in it a way to express what he's been taught to ignore._

 

 

Scotty likes her. He grins, a sideways smile she discovers he gives only to her. He tells her stories of his misadventures, distracting her with laughter when one of Jim's schemes is taking longer than it should. He respects her, respects Spock, respects what she has with Spock, but he flirts, and he touches, and he bares his soul.

It's strange at first. Scotty's sarcastic; he's quirky, enthusiastic, and his interests are decidedly...nerdy; and Uhura knows that at any given time five or six complex equations are thrumming through his mind. Sometimes he stops mid-sentence, or silences her mid-sentence, to jot something down. He's brilliant, and a little crazy, and all equations and theories, but he feels so much.

Sometimes she feels too.

 

 

_Two years on the Enterprise, with many of the vessel's original officers still with them, and amidst celebration, Spock's hand closes around hers. He pulls her against him, steady and warm. “I care for you,” he tells her. His tone is so deliberately matter-of-fact that one might miss the emotion it covers; this is why she and Spock work extraordinarily well: he is subtlety and precision, but she reads between his lines._

_Perfection doesn't exist, but they're so close._

What she dreads comes and passes, leaving a mess in its wake: Kirk and Spock are off-ship, blips moving about on Scotty's screen, and then they're gone. No trace of their frequencies.

Uhura sifts between a handful of modes at once: dedicated officer, distraught lover, furious lover, furious officer. She glances toward Scotty, who's watching her pace around the transporter chamber. Their eyes meet.

As it happens, three hours pass before the two men reappear just as suddenly as they disappeared, and Scotty beams them aboard the Enterprise.

 

 

It's morning technically, but Uhura follows Spock to his quarters. He kisses her, presses her against him. She holds him within her arms, tells him once that she loves him, but lets her body speak for her after. Her mind flashes to those hours where he could have been anywhere in any state and her heart aches miserably, but he lives and he's with her. She thinks that if he hadn't come back, her heart would have stopped all together.

_Their eyes meet. She deciphers him like language: He's on the edge of his seat, torn between throwing himself out of it and staying frozen there. His eyes are a mess, full of selfless things like concern, and care, and affection, but underneath she finds selfish things like love, and desire, and want._

She feels every emotion she reads in him, in her veins, causing her hands to shake. She exits the room abruptly, walks in a direct path to her quarters.

Scotty is behind her; she doesn't stop him; she doesn't wait.

Her door flies open, and Scotty slips through before it slides closed.

She turns to face him. He pushes her against the door, tilts her mouth toward his, and kisses her. It's heedless and impassioned, and her mind has long forgotten these things. She feels her pulse, wonders if her blood can actually boil, as she sinks her fingers into his hair and pulls him closer.

Her heart tears in two.


End file.
